


Interesting

by ladyoneill



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Post-Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle is over and Illyria is determined to regain what she lost at its beginning.  She will not live in this world without Wesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interesting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedibuttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/gifts).



> So...used a bit of the prompt but I decided to make it set right after NFA. Hopefully you can extrapolate their relationship into the future. I do love exploring Illyria; I hope you enjoy my version of her, primordial god king and all. Sorry it's not longer!

Surveying the smoking, gutted remains of a two mile stretch of the city from her position on the edge of the roof of the tallest standing building, Illyria sees the last of the demons fall to the vampire's fangs and claws. No cheers ring out. No celebration seems in order for the winning side. The survivors slowly begin to come together, speaking quiet words which she ignores, all bleeding from wounds, perhaps some fatal.

The two vampires survive. Illyria is not surprised. Mongrels though they are, they have impressed her. The two minded boy also lives, embracing his father. Most of the young women who joined the battle within the second hour live, healing faster than human. For the most part, Illyria ignores them. There's power there, but they won't turn it on her.

She fought at their sides, but the one she fought for isn't here.

He fell before it all began. His body is cold and empty. Forced to abandon it for the battle, she fought for him, with a ferocity she believed lost to her.

Now...now she'll get him back.

Without a thought she drops from the roof, landing ten storeys down with a soft thud. As she rises to her feet, she gathers her strength and spins open a portal. In an instant, she is through.

*****

Wesley sits at a desk, reviewing a real estate contract. Making a few notations in the margins, he sets it in his outbox and reaches into the inbox for the next one. He doesn't know how many he's reviewed since he got here or how long that's been. All he knows is that is inbox is never empty.

Hell, he snorts softly. Hell is real and this is his punishment. A desk amongst an endless sea of them, and contracts and reports to be reviewed and approved or sent back for more work by someone else chained to a desk.

At least it's not hot and his mind is once again his own, all his memories returned, along with that darkness he denied for nearly year, becoming the man Fred needed, not the man he truly was.

Is.

The next contract goes back for further editing and, as he takes up the another, there's a swirl of light in front of his desk that draws his attention from the paperwork.

Illyria steps out of the light.

Interesting.

*****

"That was surprisingly easy," she muses and, with a wave of her hand, disintegrates the chain around his ankle holding him to wood and stone.

Blinking in surprise, Wesley smirks and rises to his feet. He's not stiff. He doesn't feel much of anything.

Except...anticipation.

"Illyria."

"The hell of the Wolf, Ram and Hart is pathetic."

The smirk turns to a grin at her scorn and he nods and steps around the desk. There's a commotion in the distance, guards of some kind probably, but he's not worried. "You came for me."

"You died too soon. It disturbed me," is her cold reply, but he can see the true emotion in her turbulent eyes, feel it when she takes his wrist in her hand. "Earth is pointless without you so you'll return with me."

"Of course," Wesley smoothly replies and walks at her side back through the portal.

Behind them, unnoticed, a new person takes his place and picks up the discarded contract.

*****

Illyria allows the reunion between Wesley and his companions, accompanies them to the hospital to visit the dark-skinned one who hangs onto life. She observes how they interact, the wary joy, the soft smiles, the quiet conversations. It's all still new to her, but this is her world now and she will conquer it anyway she can. She will learn and adapt.

As she watches women in the hospital, on the streets, their lightweight clothing, their silly shoes, she makes a decision.

Not to be Fred, although that is easy, but something new. Discarding her armor, she replaces it with a sleeveless red and gray dress that falls to her knees. Her boots become red sandals and her hair coils into loops at the back of her head. While her skin and hair remain blue, her eyes molten, she lets a softness take her, so that when Wesley touches her hand, she feels it and her fingers give into his.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asks softly.

As she never cared to be here in the first place, she nods and lets him guide her away from the injured and dying to a building away from the war zone, to a musty set of rooms, neat and tidy, yet obviously unused for many months. It smells of him, though, the Wesley he seems to be now. Leather and gun oil and brimstone and herbs and paper. Always paper. There are books everywhere.

"This was my apartment before we moved into Wolfram & Hart," he explains, moving around the space, touching objects, running his hand over a mantlepiece. "When my memories were changed, I lost my connection to this place. It didn't mean anything anymore." He frowns and Illyria wants to make him smile again.

She doesn't quite understand why, but she takes his hand and pulls him down onto soft leather cushions, leans them against the firm back of the sofa.

"Will we stay here now?"

"Can you be content here?"

It's an interesting question, but the answer comes to her simple and sure.

"As long as you're here with me."

He smiles at that and she feels her own facial muscles--softening like the rest of her--relax into a response.

"I'm not alive, you know." Wesley's hand goes to his chest where there's no heartbeat. "Wolfram & Hart will probably come after me to drag me back. The contract I signed with them gave them my soul for eternity."

"When they come, they'll face me," Illyria replies with a dismissive sniff. "Even in my diminished capacity, they're no match for my wrath."

"And why am I important to you, Illyria?"

"You just are. You are Wesley. My Wesley," she emphasizes. "As I said, this world is pointless without you. I fought at the sides of your companions to keep them alive for you and to keep the damage to a minimum for your return. You seem to like this world and them." Her shrug makes him chuckle.

"Yes, I do, and thank you for preserving as much of it as you could and keeping my friends alive." His fingers squeeze around hers. She finds she enjoys the sensation and carefully squeezes back. "So, if I continue to fight the good fight at Angel's side, after I first kick his ass for altering my memories, will you fight there as well?"

"Of course. I won't lose you again. I don't have an explanation as to why you give my existence meaning, but you do. We are meant to be one." 

"Do I have a say in that?" He doesn't actually mind. With the righting of his memories came the truth of his feelings for Fred. He'll always care for her, miss her, but the love they shared wasn't completely real. The being sitting next to him, fingers entwined with his, isn't her. Finally, he can see that.

And he finds he likes who she is.

Primordial god king and all.

Wesley relaxes against the cushions, brushing his shoulder against hers, and it's no longer rock hard and cold. Her skin has give to it and a growing warmth. When she sinks slightly into him, he smiles.

This is going to be interesting.

Feeling the urge to be closer, Illyria rests her head on Wesley's firm shoulder. Her hair is softening against her cheek and no longer smells of death but a hint of storm and rain. She drinks in the scent, lets it mingle with his of musk and cedar, and thinks that this is good.

This is a start.

She is content.

Tired for the first time in what seems like eons, Wesley closes his eyes and listens to the god at his side breathe. As he does, his heart begins to beat and his breathing resumes to match hers.

Definitely interesting.

End


End file.
